


Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern.

by Equinoxe



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 19:29:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5061130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Equinoxe/pseuds/Equinoxe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. But three times? Three times is everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern.

**Author's Note:**

> I just binge wrote this because Spectre is Monday and I just can't. It's my first time writing this long, and my first time ever with smut. So I apologise in advance for any mistake I've made. I hope you enjoy this.
> 
> Edit: Sorry I keep bumping this, I keep wanting to change tags/correct mistakes. I wasn't paying attention or I am that bad at grammar :\

 

 _Dangerous_.

 

From the first moment a blond man with an impeccable suit entered the bar, a voice in Q’s head had been telling him that. He kept his eyes trained on the stranger while continue with his cleaning. The man was an hour early for the place’s peak time. There were handful of people scattered about. It was Wednesday.

 

“Dry martini” deep voice ordered, “three Gordon’s, one Russian Standard, half Lilet. Shaken, not stirred.” Q stared at him, for the drink concoction was the most precise he had ever received, and he worked in one of the top bars in the city. 

 

He felt more than saw the man’s piercing blue eyes followed him to liquor shelf. It was a wonder that his customer expected a bartender to make the drink from hearing the instruction alone. He was just lucky Q was up for some intellectual challenge. 

 

“Waiting for a date?” Q asked, because it was better to be friendly than not. He put all the liquors into a shaker and looked straight into the man’s eyes. 

 

“Not really”

 

Q nodded, then proceeded to shake the drink up. He contemplated for a mere second and decided to serve with a slice of lemon peel. The blonde gave him a black AMEX with an approved look. Q felt a little nervous reaching for the card.

 

The man tipped him twice the drink’s cost. Those blue eyes palpably tracked his movements. _Dangerous_. His mind supplied again. 

 

“Have a good night, sir.” 

 

The stranger took a sip from his drink and smirked, credit card shoved in his suit’s pocket. He turned away into the crowd with remarkable grace. 

 

 _Dangerous and arrogant_ , Q decided. 

 

 

 

 

“J- James, ahh” Q bared his pale neck further as the friction of the thrust intensified. The blond man before him was a lot stronger than he appeared to be; the fact that he was carrying Q’s weights and got him pushed against the wall was a solid proof. 

 

The stranger, James, groaned. His body temperature was hot, hotter than anything Q had felt in a while. His dress shirt’s buttons were undone. The designer blazer was discarded on the floor. James nibbled the tendons of Q’s neck, and Q couldn’t, for his life, suppress the moan. 

 

“A— oh god,”  James moved his hips, and it was delicious. The pounding sounds, whispers, and groans echoed in the small storage room just behind the bar. Cold sweat formed at the crown of his head, and James kissed it away. 

 

The bar was long since shut. Remnants of the night and quietness were outside. It was Thursday. 

 

 

 

 

Weekends were always busy, and there was rarely a weekend that went not exhausting. Whisky highballs, margarita, rum and coke, you name it. The bar was almost always full of people, queuing for drinks. Some drank to impress, some drank to forget. Q didn’t mind either. They kept things out of his mind. 

 

When Q started working as a bartender, it was out of necessity: he needed a job, and he happened to know about how to make drinks. But the more he stayed, he thought with a slight bitterness, the more he started to like the job. People watching was interesting, and a life story told was never a boring story.

 

Sundays were cool-down, yet still busier than weekdays. Q lost himself in counting the vodka he had served tonight. He wondered what it was like to come to a fancy bar and order something as mundane as vodka and lemonade. He wondered if people knew that tequila was a lot easier to swallow as a shot. He wondered about many things.

 

“Dry martini” 

 

But definitely not about a customer he had a one night stand with. 

 

“Three Gordon’s, one-”

 

“Russian Standard, though I suspect any vodka will do, and one measurement of Lilet. Shaken, not stirred.”

 

James shot him a surprised look which was followed by an amused smile.

 

“Exceptional customer service, I see.” the blond man mused. He was in a different suit, expensive high-end brand again by the look of it. His left knuckles were scraped, but overall he looked fine and dashing. 

 

Q began his work. He didn’t think James would come back. After all, why would a person with a black AMEX have anything to do with a bartender. Q looked alright the last time he saw himself in a mirror, but not black card dude kind of alright.

 

“Waiting for a date again?” Q joked with a smile, James tipped well, and maybe it was just a bartender thing.

 

James locked his eyes with Q, and with the most seductive look on his face, he said, “Maybe.”

 

 

 

 

They went to James’ hotel room, a suite in a four-stars hotel in the better part of the city. A small luggage sat in one corner of the room. On the table were maps and an empty wine glass. 

 

“Here for business?” Q commented. No one really came to the city for holiday. “I thought you were married or something.” 

 

James laughed, didn’t deny. He offered Q a glass of champagne from the bucket which Q politely declined. Hot as a sun or not, James was still a stranger. 

 

“What do you think of this room?” The blond man sat on the sofa next to him. His arm slung across Q’s shoulders. Q leaned on him further, inhaling a cologne on James’ collar. He looked up through his eye lash with a challenging smirk.

 

“More surfaces than the storage room. Love it.” 

 

Amusement shot across James’ face. Blue eyes glinted in the expensive light of the hotel’s room. “One with smart mouth aren’t you?” Then his voice got lower, “Wonder how smart it could get..”

 

Q took that as a cue to capture James’ lips in hot, filthy kisses. Plural. Because James was one hell of a kisser. It was long ago that someone could give him a serious boner only by making out. Q’s hand travelled down to the hem of James’ shirt and pulled aggressively. 

 

“Why are you still wearing clothes?” He murmured between the kisses. Grunted impatiently, “come on,” 

 

James smirked and kissed him deeper and moved his tongue in the way that had Q’s hips buckling. 

 

“Patient. The night is still young, darling.”

 

 

 

 

Q woke up with an ache. A good kind of ache. His body felt light and his bones were still a little gooey. He stretched on his way to the bathroom.

 

“Q” He jumped at the voice of James. Span around, James was in a trouser, shirtless, and looked stunning. Q stared at his muscled abs. The man was downright sinful. 

 

“I could eat you for breakfast.” Q said. 

 

And apparently that did something to the older man. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he openly leered at Q’s naked state. 

 

“How about-” he paused when Q’s hand reached him, lightly scratching his chest. James cleared his throat, “I was saying, how about we eat— oh- god,” the latter part came out as a throaty groan, his hands flew out to grab Q’s locks in front of him. Q was on his knee, alternating between palming James’ length slowly and soft licks. 

 

Q looked up at him with a devilish smile, “What did you say? Sorry. I can’t quite catch that.” 

 

James looked like he was about to reply, but Q beat him to it.

 

He swallowed James whole. 

 

 

 

 

James fucked him so hard he forgot how to breathe afterwards. It was the most brutal, punishing, and sweetest revenge Q had never imagined in his life. 

 

“James— James- J- James! Ah, ah, oh god, James.” James’ movements were relentless and unforgiving. The king size bed shook like it was going to break. 

 

“Yes, _yes_ , you little _shit_ ” A tongue filled Q’s ear, tasting, exploring. The blonde rotated his hips in attempt to find Q’s sweet spot, “chant my name. That’ll be all you’ll need to know.” 

 

James kept moving in the tiniest fraction while giving him a hard kiss on the neck. “I’m going to fuck you till you can’t think straight, you fucker.” And as blank as Q’s brain was fucked out, Q laughed. He buckled his hips, and clenched, _hard_.

 

“Fucking tease,” James thrusted into him with an equal force. Once, twice, then he found a spot that made Q see stars. The man smirked at Q’s silent scream and start pounding. 

 

“Oh my god-, oh my g— nghhh” 

 

“Yeah, darling, scream. Scream for me.” James adjusted the position and started to pick up his pace. Q didn’t think it was possible. _God, how much strength does this man possess?_

 

“James, James—” Q panted and brought the man above him closer a for a kiss, or ten. The punishing hips wouldn’t stop, or slow down. Q could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge. 

 

It was all kind of dirty and messy, and Q absolutely loved every second of it. 

 

 

 

 

Q leaned on James’ strong frame in the bath, boneless and sated. 

 

“You _are_ unreal.” He whispered, the last twenty-four hours was no doubt the best sex he ever had in life. James went quiet, bar the occasional head and back massage he gave Q. 

 

“That was quite a amazing, wasn’t it?” He said at last. Q laughed and voiced his agreement. 

 

 

 

 

“I’ll see you on Wednesday.” James said before Q exited the door late in the afternoon. Q looked back to the man on the sofa.

 

“Alright,” he said, transfixed with the beam of sunlight on James’ beautiful face, “See you then, James.”

 

James never came on Wednesday, or the next Wednesday, or the next. 

 

Q didn’t think much about it, except when he was masturbating, sometimes. 

 

 

 

 

 

Q didn’t have friends at the bar, but he was not entirely antisocial. He had a couple of co-workers he talked to during his shifts. They texted and hung out once in a while. He didn’t have many stuffs either, just the necessities, his laptop, and his phones. 

 

 _Everything else could be bought on the way._ That was what he always thought, and exactly what he was thinking while waiting on the airport’s seat. He had one small luggage and a laptop rucksack. The passport was on his lap, while one of his phone kept him occupied. 

 

_They are rounding up north. Get moving._

 

He stared at the text and sighed. He thought the interpol would not bother checking the cold places a little longer, or at least until the end of winter. He hated to move in February. 

 

The phone showed him the notification, they were closing to his city, he guessed it was for the best to run now.

 

“So annoying.” He mumbled. The money would have to be moved from Switzerland, again. He thought about a million sterling he had back in the UK and how he might not get a chance to go back and use it.

 

That would be about a million bags of Haribo he would not get to eat, he reckoned.

 

 

 

 

What he had learnt from years of running around was that, the authority was not really serious about it if no blood had been spilled. So far he had escaped three cases that would have had him about ten years in jail, each, but perhaps more for seriality of it. He should have been home in six months, if not for one drunk night he decided to have some fun with local black-hats. The stupid thing put him back on their radar. 

 

That was four months ago, so he had about two years to lay low. 

 

He moved into a new apartment. He had to stay quiet this time if he really wanted to go back to those atrocious British pies he liked so much. Hence he bought a small safe and locked his laptop in. Q decided against swallowing the key, so he put it deep in his wardrobe instead.

 

Then he applied for a bartending job, at an average bar this time. The work was quite the same, people watching was interesting, and a life story told was never a boring story.

 

In the afternoon he studied the language in a language-learning app he had, and in the night he worked. Five days a week with tips and Switzerland money enabled him to live easily. 

 

Sometimes he would catch a bus through the edge of the city and walk along the river that cut across it. And if he was absent-minded enough, he would be able to see the semblance between there and South Bank. 

 

 

 

 

If you asked, Q would say his life was pretty interesting. It was all about doing new stuffs and meeting new people. _Obviously_ , he would think inwardly, it had to be all about something new when staying in the old place and meeting old people meant someone was going to get him sooner than later. 

 

So when he saw James on the street, he didn’t think about earth-shattering orgasms or the man's wonderful eyes. His sense came to an instant alert, and no longer he could remained here. He set for a quick escape, which turned out to be quite a long run. 

 

“Q!” Blood was ringing in his ears. He could not be caught now, not after he had sacrificed this much time on laptop for his freedom. There was no reason James should be in this city, if not for hunting him down. 

 

“Ommph—” He was grabbed from behind and spun to be face to be with the man. The blond man was as handsome as he remembered. It was such a shame that a sex god like him worked for interpol.

 

James watched his facial expression, “It’s you.”

 

“Look, I-” 

 

“Why did you run?”

 

He asked, confusion showed in his features. Q was just too baffled he was not shoved to the wall and cuffed yet, so he kept staring until the other prompted again, “Q?”

 

Then he looked at the man properly for the first time in months, and at that moment, he realised James was not one of _them_.

 

“Um, because you chased?” Q offered lamely. James didn’t look convinced, but his phone chimed before he could start. Blue eyes swept at the screen in a way Q could tell the matter was urgent.

 

“Here, why don’t you come to the bar I work at.” He fished a card he had in his wallet the first month he arrived, just in case he lost his way. “I work Wednesday to Sunday. It is nothing posh but I guess I can pull out that dry martini.” 

 

James put the card in his trouser pocket and nodded. They parted at the end of the alley. 

 

 

 

 

Unlike the last place he worked, the new bar was full of chatty people on the stools. The customers always had something to talk about, and Q was happy to listen. Life was a lot more complicated than computers, and there were a million ways to see it. 

 

James was there on a Thursday. One moment he was listening to a tale of a crazy wife, the next James was standing before him, in his tailored suits. 

 

“Dry martini,” James said as a greeting. Q was hit hard with a pang of familiarity he hadn’t faced in so long.

 

“You know,” He grabbed a bottle of gin from under the counter, “I make a very good appletini.” He motioned the drink in a lady’s hand, three stools down. The woman winked at James, and he looked taken aback.

 

James cleared his throat, “Dry martini is fine. Thanks for suggestion though.” 

 

“We don’t have fancy lemon peels here.” Q said, slicing a lemon and sprinkled the drink with some juice. He put a tiny slice in the glass.

 

“I hope this will do.” 

 

James smirked. The same black credit card was handed to Q. He tipped generously as if he was in a high-end bar, before disappearing down the seating space.

 

“More Jameson?” Q asked the customer he was talking to.

 

“That guy is such a _snob_ , dressing all high and mighty like that.” 

 

The old man said, and Q laughed. 

 

 

 

 

This time around, James was staying in an even fancier hotel. Q walked in with his bartender clothes, which was casual smart, but the place still managed to make him feel like he wore a bathrobe to prom. 

 

He sighed when the door clicked shut, wondering if James was an emerging entrepreneur he didn’t know about. But then again, it was not like he knew rich people.

 

“How have you been?” Q asked in the awkward silence.

 

“Good.” James answered curtly. “Constantly tired, but good.” 

 

Luxury was ingrained in every corner of the room. There was a large balcony overlooking the city, and a bar counter in the middle of the room. 

 

“Q,” James called him out of his observation, “Come here.”

 

Q sat down at the couch, whose material felt so expensive. It was something akin to deja vu when James laid his arm on Q’s shoulder. James’ eyes were blue, a sparkling, infinite space in the area of an orb. 

 

James’ lips touch his lightly, tentative, but Q knew James was the fire to his torch, and they would burn down _everything_. 

 

And so they did.

 

 

 

 

James was a perfect sex monster. Q could not describe how James had done everything _right_ , flicking the tongue in the right way, touching his skin in the right place, and fucking him, so, so right. 

 

“Let me-” He stuttered, climbing up to James' lap, locking the eyes. James’ warm hands felt the curve of his back, then groped a handful of his bum.

 

Q bent down to kiss him. He used one hand to guide James into his entrance, already a little sloppy. The drag was wonderful— he took a deep breath and lowered himself down. Once he was seated, he looked at James again. He studied the expression on his face, and thought about how he would destroy James tonight.

 

When he started to move, slowly so, he kept his eyes on the beautiful face. 

 

“Christ, Q, god-”

 

His hands roamed the perfect body before him. James thrusted his hips upwards, and Q grunted approvingly.

 

“Q, darling, please”

 

Q smiled and quickened his pace, he _loved_ it when James called him darling. 

 

 

 

 

Did he mention the man’s filthy mouth?

 

Because as posh as he might look, James had got a very inappropriate mouth, in a good way, Q meant.

 

“That’s it baby, fuck my hand” Q couldn’t control his hips any longer, not with those sinful hands on his cock and a set of teeth toying his nipples, “I can feel it. I practically can feel how much you need it. You wanna cum darling? Do you need it?”

 

He talked the talk, while keeping his stroke excruciating slow. Q hadn’t thought that there would be a day he would be sobbing because of a handjob.

 

“James- James, please, please, _ah_ —, p- please” Q babbled out. He couldn’t even string a sentence properly now. James knew it, and the fucker was doing it because he knew too well how to reduce Q into this mewling mess.

 

“Shhh, I’ve got you. It feels good doesn’t it?” James kissed the tears in the corner of his eyes. His words were kind, but a cruel hand was tweaking one of his nipples.

 

“Q, baby, doesn’t it feel good when your tits and cock are loved like this?” The hand quickened, and Q let out a long moan because everything, every inch of his skin was boiling. “Your neck needs to be loved too” James planted kisses down his neck and collarbone. 

 

“And also,” He licked his lips, maybe, Q couldn’t see straight through the haze of lust. 

 

“Here” His free hand touched Q’s entrance gingerly, circling around, entering, prodding. By now Q was sure James knew Q’s body more than himself, and James wasn’t shy to show off. 

 

“Nghh— J… James, James, ah, ah, J-” Q _wailed_ when warm fingers touched the sweet spot inside him. He was writhing on the sweat-and-other-fluid soaked sheet and would have hurt himself if not for James’ weight on him. It was too much. The pleasure was too much.

 

“I bet it feels _so_ good here,” James cooed, his fingers pressing at the spot.

 

“James, please, p- _please_ , James, please” Q was repeating the only two words he could think of. He saw a glint in James’ eyes that screamed dangerous, but he didn’t care. He needed to cum, and that was the only thing in the world that mattered.

 

“I know, it’s so much better when your hole is not empty right?” Q keened, hips buckled involuntarily. 

 

James stroke picked up the speed, and slowed down right on the edge, then picked up the speed again all the while pressing rhythmically inside him. Q’s throat was hoarse from the pleas. 

 

James littered kisses on his chest, “Oh poor darling,” he shook his head, “Let me make you remember my name better.” He bit Q’s nipple teasingly and pressed his thumb on Q’s slit. The fingers inside him moved in a way that made him feel impossibly hotter.

 

James smirked at his scream and kissed the tears away again. His hand gently milked the rest of the orgasm out of him. 

 

“That’s three orgasms. I’m looking for six.”

 

Q really, really, forgot how to breath hearing that. _Sadist fuck._

 

 

 

 

“What are you doing here Q?” James enquired in the darkness of the room. The scent of sex was still in the air.

 

“I could ask the same for you” Q snuggled up closer to the firm chest and yawned.

 

“I’m here for work.” James said.

 

“I’m here for work too.”

 

James sighed, “You know it’s not the same.” 

 

 _Tell me about it_ , Q thought, but decided that he’d better let the sleep take him. 

 

 

 

 

It lasted longer this time, and Q could not stress enough how getting the best sex brightened his dull life. He would gladly take it while he could, before either of them had to leave. Their pseudo-relationship was a countdown to an end, but it was brilliant to him. 

 

_Come over tonight? Let’s have dinner._

 

Q typed the reply quickly:

 

_Is 7 good for you?_

 

_Yes, ring me when you’re at the lobby._

 

Q hummed contently. He liked it. He liked being with James, and not knowing each other, and having an amazing sex with him. He liked that they talked about nothing like they had a lifetime together ahead of them.

 

His phone vibrated. He opened the text message, then after a long pause, he sighed. 

 

 

 

 

11:35 Monday night, he was at the airport, staring blankly at his phone. 

 

He didn’t have much possession, so the packing was relatively quick. He dropped in to speak with his landlord and called his employer. The plane ticket was bought by the cash he had, at the airport.

 

He got texts from James. _Texts_. He didn’t open any because it would make him sad. And he hated being sad while running away, it tampered his mind. 

 

This time he would go a bit further. The sweep hunt the interpol was doing had nothing to do with him, but he was better safe than sorry. He had considered giving himself in, knew he could get away with contributing to the authority. But wasn’t it unfair to get the status of ‘white-hat’ by doing dirty work for the government? 

 

Dirty work would always be dirty, no matter for whom it was. Q hated the labels. Hated that the authority pretended to care about ethics, when in fact all they cared about was power. 

 

Thus he had to run, even if it was to the end of the earth. 

 

 

 

 

_Sorry_

 

Q sent the text to James before removing the sim card. He dumped it into one of airport bins, and factory-reseted his phone.

 

 _At least it was brilliant while it lasted_ , he thought. 

 

 

 

 

Southeast Asia was a blast. The cost of living was low, and the people were not so questioning when he splashed his money around. Bartending was now a part-time. Travelling and having fun were full-time. He got laid more than he had ever got in his whole life. 

 

The sex wasn’t as amazing as with James. But he did realise it would probably never be.

 

Sex was sex anyhow. An orgasm still felt good. Q was just a bit unfortunate to have met someone who showed him it _could_ have been better. 

 

 

 

 

Q never really sat down and thought about how big a continent could be. He wandered forward, from Thailand to Malaysia, to Laos, to Indonesia. The difference was refreshing and he _learnt_. The food was wonderful. Within those countries, he forgot about his past life, he forgot about everything but today. 

 

A year and a half has passed quickly. He celebrated Christmas on a beach with strangers, where the temperature was hotter than the summer he knew. His bartending skill meant he got invited to a lot of house parties. And house parties were where crazy stuffs happened. 

 

He almost didn’t want to leave. Everything was great and for the first time since he knew the interpol was tailing after him, he felt so free. 

 

 _It was safe now_ , he kept telling himself, yet he dragged the stay further and further.

 

Until one day a phone of someone he possibly would call a friend was stolen, and the photos within were invaluable to his friend, so he sat in front of that someone’s laptop, and touched the keyboard for the first time in he-forgot-how-long. 

 

It was the greatest feeling in the whole world, and he knew he had to go back.

 

 

 

 

London was the same until it was not. Q would walk along the street he had known too well to find that the corner shop had turned into a cafe. The broadband Internet got so much faster. And smartphones were everywhere.

 

When he said smartphones, he meant unsecured data.

 

Q had a new security website now, where he would hack random things and announced the vulnerabilities. He also freelanced himself with some of the request people made. He was older, and a little wiser than before. His encryption had been going strong for a few months, and he worked to improve it everyday because he would hate to move around again. 

 

He eyed the conversations on his laptop screen, texts to parents, a guy having an affair, a girl discussing her crush with a friend. It was ridiculously easy to get inside everyone’s phone once the devices were connected to an unsecured network. Old trick in the book, but worked like a charm every time.

 

His email inbox also came back to live with him back in the business. Requests, discussions, questions, Q went through all everyday because he had nothing better to do. 

 

It was boring, but when you felt it was boring, it meant you were stable. 

 

Q was content he was gaining normalcy back in his life. 

 

 

 

 

 

Q always thought normalcy was an illusion. That the world would throw him off the cliff once his back turned. 

 

It did.

 

 

 

 

 

Q's head was constantly buried in his phone screen, checking for updates, checking for anything. So to be fair it perhaps was his fault that he was almost hit by a car that was speeding past yellow light. The loud screech of the brake was still ringing in his ears.

 

He just stood there, too confused to move. 

 

“For fuck’s sake” a man climbed out of the car, an expensive one he had to add. He was blond, with stupefying blue eyes, dressed in designer suit like a snob, and everything about him radiated danger.

 

He was also very, very attractive.

 

“Q?” 

 

Q looked up to meet the unbelieving stare. His heart pounding so hard that he struggle to breathe properly. He wanted to say something, to refuse, or maybe to greet, but a word wouldn’t go past his lips. James surged forward and grabbed his upper arm. 

 

“Come with me” He said as if it would make anything less confusing for Q. 

 

 

 

 

He was definitely lucky that James was not a bad guy, because for twenty minutes in the car, he just sat dumbfounded in a passenger seat without any sense of self-preservation. James took him to a residence complex, which was as posh as he could imagine. 

 

“Any drink?” James asked halfway into the kitchen. The room was spacious and stylish. 

 

Q cleared his throat, “So you are actually not married.” 

 

James’ eyebrows shot up and he looked like he was either about to laugh or scream in rage. The silence stretched until Q felt uncomfortable. 

 

“Can I have a glass of water?” He said with an unsure voice. 

 

James sighed, but came back with a glass anyway. 

 

“Where the fuck did you go Q?” James started, anger clouded his face. Q took a gulp of mineral water (because posh people don’t do tap water right?) while contemplating the answer. It was not like they were committed in a relationship or anything. He could make up lies, or he could tell the truth. It wouldn’t matter. In the end, he settled with a neutral “About.”

 

James watched him like the first night they met, tracking his every movement, and categorising it. It was long and painful. Q didn’t know how to act.

 

“Look—” James said at last, “I know this is awkward and it was purely by accident that I’ve met you. Three times.” 

 

Q nodded and let him continue. 

 

“But I think-” James chanced a look at Q’s face. “I think we are better off- um,”

 

“Knowing each other?” Q helped, but it wasn’t the word James was looking for, as he made a face.

 

“Don’t be silly Q, we _know_ each other.” 

 

 _Then what?_ Q screamed inside his head. _What the fuck is going on?_  

 

The silence was deafening. And Q thought he might die if he stay for one more minute. Q was about to stand up and leave, when James said with a flat tone.

 

“I believe we haven’t been properly introduced,”

 

“The name is Bond, James Bond.” 

 

 

 

 

 

“Do you remember the first time we meet?” James said when they were snuggled up close, in the bedroom. A lot had passed since the awkward third-first meet.

 

“Hmm?” 

 

“You put a slice of lemon peel in my drink. And it was about the best fucking thing ever.”

 

“Oh?” Q huffed a laughed and kissed James’ shoulder.

 

“You know what?” James asked nuzzling his stubbly cheek to Q’s neck, making him giggle.

 

“I think I’ve fallen in love.” 

 

 

 

 

 

Sometimes he felt a little shitty that it was almost as if he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Q still lived with little possession, so it was easier to pack and run away, just in case.

 

Or so he thought.

 

Then one day he walked into James’ bedroom and saw his gadgets lying around. His clothes were hung in the wardrobe. The shelf was half filled with his books and figures. And in one cupboard lived bottles of liquors and bartending kits.

 

He made an appletini that night when James came home. 

 

“What’s the occasion?” James hugged him from behind where he was standing. Kisses were peppered on his neck. They sent shivers down his spine. 

 

“Since when does appletini need occasion?” He retorted. 

 

James turned him around from his task and kissed him until he was weak in his knees. And strangely in that moment, he felt like maybe the other shoe was non-existent, and he wasn’t going anywhere anymore.

 

 


End file.
